The 4th of July
by Scarlet Silverweaver
Summary: So what if Dixie had been a loyalist? So what if Alfred had forgotten his birthday for the last several decades? Alfred would be crushed if Dixie forgot about Independence Day. Giving in to the guilt that had been eating him all day so far, the Confederacy grabbed the red, white, and blue present sitting by the door and headed outside. (fluff, warning: Confederate OC)


**Discalimer: I don't own Hetalia; the city of Memphis, Tennessee or any locations mentioned; or the United States of America (Alfred F. Jones). I do, however, own this version of Confederate America (Dixie Morris) and a pretty awesome American history textbook.**

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Dixie looked at the calendar on his wall and sighed. July 4th, Independence Day, it read. He'd been pointedly avoiding it all day, but he couldn't escape the guilt.

So what if Dixie had been a loyalist? So what if Alfred had forgotten his birthday for the last several decades? Alfred would be crushed if Dixie forgot about Independence Day.

Giving in to the guilt that had been eating him all day so far, the Confederacy grabbed the red, white, and blue present sitting by the door and headed outside.

"If I where a yankee, where would I be?" he mumbled to himself. The only thing Dixie knew for sure was that he'd rather be watching the fireworks over the muddy Mississippi than anything exploding in the New York skyline. Gargantuan cities, especially with fireworks going off ever few minutes, always made him a bit nervous, but that was where Alfred lived, so he'd probably be there...

Then reality set in.

_What am I gonna do? Walk?_

Dixie, being an officially dissolved nation, had lost some of the perks of being "legitimate". One of those was the ability to walk miles at a time, practically teleporting. Dixie's best options were to call Alfred or fly to New York on a plane. On the 4th of July.

_The things I do for my brothers..._

Resigned to a long few hours at the airport, Dixie got in his truck and started driving to the Memphis international airport.

_Maybe I should call him first_, the Confederacy thought._ No way to know if he even still lives in New York._

In leu of telepathy, Dixie took the ancient Nokia out of his pocket and dialed Alfred's number from memory before thinking better of it and putting the phone back in his pocket. Best if Alfred thinks he forgot for now. Plus, Dixie wasn't exactly used to talking on the phone and driving at the same time.

A while later, as Dixie drove through downtown and prayed his truck wouldn't break down just yet, he spotted a familiar black and yellow mustang with an autobot bumper sticker and a New York license plate. Not to mention there was an even more familiar blond yankee sitting on the spoiler.

_Well ain't that just peachy._

Dixie pulled up in front of the car. "Hey, stranger, need a lift?"

"No. I'm just waiting for the fireworks to start," Alfred replied. Then he actually looked at the driver of the truck. "Dixie?!"

Dixie smiled. "You ain't gonna see much from here. The fireworks are comin' from Mud Island. They're illegal on this side of the river."

Alfred looked confused. "But I saw a bunch of kids setting some off on the way here."

Dixie shrugged. "The cops don't really pay attention to it unless someone calls."

"Oh," Alfred said. He still looked thoroughly bewildered.

"You need a ride? I know a better place to see the fireworks from," Dixie said.

"Sure!" Alfred said, hopping off his car.

Dixie moved his brother's present from the passenger's seat and put it on the floorboard just as the nation opened the door. Alfred plopped himself down in the seat and made a face.

"Why is this so hard?" he whined.

Dixie rolled his eyes. "I ain't got the money you do, Yank. You get a brand new hot rod every year and I've had the same damn truck since '89."

"Right," Alfred said, somewhat sheepishly.

"It's fine," Dixie said in the friendliest tone he could muster. "Let me know if you spot an empty parkin' space, 'kay?"

"Okay," Alfred said. He looked out the window. After a few moments of driving in silence, the nation shouted something about four pound burgers at a Canadian restaurant.

"That's the Kooky Canuck," Dixie said with a smile. "I took Mattie there a while ago, when it was still Bigfoot Lodge."

"Dude! I could totally eat that burger!" Alfred shouted excitedly.

Dixie chuckled at his brother's antics. Sometimes, it was hard to remember who was older. "We'll stop by after the fireworks, but you're payin' if you don't finish it."

"Deal," Alfred said. "Parking space!"

Dixie pulled in front of the parking meter and turned the car off before taking the key out of the ignition. Thank God they weren't too far from the park.

"Alright, let's get goin'," Dixie said, getting out of the car and slipping Alfred's present from under his seat. He had to make a conscious effort to hide it behind his back.

"How long is the walk?" Alfred asked, leaving the truck to stand closer to Dixie.

"Not that long," Dixie answered.

Alfred peeked around his brother's back. "What's that?"

"Nothing, just something I'm bringin' down to the riverside," Dixie said.

"Why?"

"'Cause of reasons."

Alfred looked a little suspicious, but evidently decided it didn't matter because he asked, "So which way is it?"

"This way," Dixie said, leading his brother down South Second Street.

Alfred was mesmerized by all the buildings, which surprised Dixie, because the nation lived in New York City of all places. At any rate, Alfred was happy about all the signs for foods he hadn't seen on a menu in a long time. Before long, the brothers were on Jefferson Avenue between the Mississippi River Park and Confederate Park. Not that Alfred noticed.

"That's a nice view!" the northrner exclaimed, looking out at the river and the freshly lit Mississippi Bridge.

Dixie looked behind him and absently waved at the statue of Jefferson Davis. It was a force of habit.

"The fireworks should be starting any minute now," Dixie said, turning back to his brother. He looked around for a free spot on the crowded grass and saw a small one by the riverbank. "C'mon."

Dixie pulled Alfred around the family picnics spread out on the grass, apologizing when he just barely missed someone's bucket of fried chicken.

The two brothers settled down next to eachother on the riverbank.

"Who brings KFC to a picnic?" Alfred asked.

"Welcome to the south," Dixie said with a smile. He hadn't smiled this much since the premiere of Gone With the Wind back in '39.

There was a flash of red and white light and a boom, and the Americas grinned.

"Fireworks're startin'," Dixie said excitedly, turning his gaze to the sky as "I'm Proud to Be an American" blared from someone's car nearby. The Confederacy slipped the box with Alfred's present across the grass and into the nation's hand.

As another firework boomed overhead, Alfred gave Dixie an odd look. "You got me a present?"

"'Course I did!" Dixie said. "You don't turn 237 every day, y' know."

Alfred shrugged. "You don't usually get me anything."

"Well open it!"

Alfred ripped open the red, white, and blue wrapping paper and his jaw dropped as he threw the wrapping paper back over it.

"The flag from Fort Sumter?" Alfred asked.

Dixie nodded. "One of the last things I held on to from the Schism. Thought you might like it back."

Alfred set the flag on his lap and gave his brother the most crushing hug he'd ever gotten.

"Yank!" Dixie said urgently. "I can't breathe!"

"Thank you!" Alfred let go. "Thank you so much!"

Dixie smiled. "Happy Birthday, Al."

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**I'm a day late, I know, and I'm American myself to boot. Would you believe me if I said I was busy?**

**Anyway, I saw so many stories about Canada and/or England and America on the 4th that I got a little tired of them. Don't get me wrong, I love angsty USUK and brotherly fluff as much as the next peaceful Hetalian, but I thought Confederacy needed a chance at the limelight. After all, he's America too! :)**

**Constructive criticism (or any reviews at all) is greatly appreciated.**


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